


Click

by snowpuppies



Series: Chosen [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: AU, Angst, Dark, Gen, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-05
Updated: 2009-04-05
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:10:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowpuppies/pseuds/snowpuppies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What does a Watcher do when all hope is lost?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Click

 

  
The Watcher cowered in the corner.

She wasn't sure which was louder, the thundering of her heartbeat or the insistent rumble of fists against the door.

Her Slayer was beside her, sprawled on the floor, legs at an awkward angle, her quiet whimpers echoing in the space with every breath.

The Watcher ran her fingers over the unnaturally positioned limbs—a broken femur for sure, and if she wasn't mistaken, a dislocated hip. Leaving the broken leg where it lay, she stood, planting a foot firmly against the Slayer's body and gave the other leg a swift jerk.

The Slayer screamed and the grunting and pounding at the door became more frantic, the acrid scent of their pursuers' sweat pouring into the small room and filling the Watcher's nostrils. Eyes stinging, she wiped the tears and sweat from her face, before pulling on the dislocated leg again…and again…and again.

Exhausted, she slipped onto the ground next to her Slayer, who was openly sobbing now, tears and snot running down her face, groans of agony filling the air.

The Watcher cursed, wanting to cry herself. Her Slayer was too injured to fight, she had no weapons and no strength, and a dozen Grun'thak demons were pounding on the door.

A good bit of the Watcher's Training had slipped through the cracks in her brain, facts and factoids lost among the rubble of 'Demon, bad; Council, good', but the lecture on the Grun'thak demon was still clearly etched in her mind.

She wished it had been forgotten, too.

She knew every fact, every habit, from their typical hunting packs, to the extremely malicious way they went about subduing human prey: rape, repeatedly, followed by careful dissection to remove their small intestines and liver—the tastiest treats, apparently—and then, if they were lucky, they'd bleed to death before they were drawn and quartered.

The Grun'thak were getting excited—guttural yawps and yelps ringing in the hallway—and the door was beginning to buckle. The horror of what fate awaited she and her Slayer slammed into the Watcher's chest, her heart fluttering with fear, her breaths coming short and shallow.

It was only a matter of time.

 

Holding in the sob that threatened to explode from her chest, she reached to her leg, pulling the item hidden in the top of her stocking. It was a pistol, single-shot.

She remembered clearly when her father had given it to her: the day she finished the Watcher's Academy. They'd both known it wasn't the proper weapon for a Watcher—it couldn't penetrate the tough skins of many varieties of demon—but he'd made her swear to carry it always, and she'd promised, keeping it close as a reminder of home more than anything.

Funny, how these things work out.

She pulled her Slayer close, resting the dark head in her lap, fingers running through mussed locks and across tear-stained cheeks. The bird-thin body trembled in her lap; dark eyes, wide with terror, looked into her own. She was just a baby. Fourteen, and had only been a Slayer a little over a week.

What a waste.

 

The Watcher forced herself to smile. She was sure it came out more of a grimace, but the corner of the Slayer's mouth quirked up in return.

"Close your eyes." Her clammy fingers smoothed the Slayer's eyelids shut, the gun metal cold and impersonal in her hand.

 

The sound of the shot was overpowered by the thump of the door giving way.

 

 

 

_FIN_.

 

Originally archived [here](http://snowpuppies.livejournal.com/162936.html).


End file.
